


Headquarters

by Lostkid



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Jacksepticeye egos, Markiplier egos - Freeform, i love them all they're my favourites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostkid/pseuds/Lostkid
Summary: A bunch of drabbles featuring Jacksepticeye and Markiplier's egos (might add other Youtubers' egos if requested). Contains fluff, contains angst, contains everything (requests very welcome).





	1. Silent Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new ego shows up at the headquarters, and Marvin The Magnificent and Dr. Schneeplestein are there to greet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Relevant warnings will be posted at the start of every chapter)

For two groups of entities formed by the human equivalents of sunshine, the egos weren’t always having a very pleasant time. It made sense, of course; the did contain a couple of demons, murderers, and a heaping helping of conflicting personalities and issues. But despite that, they usually got along fine.

It did tend to get loud for the Septic egos, however, which almost made it a relief when the newest ego of Jack’s showed up in the corner of the main room, completely silent, staring out of the window. The doctor and the magician cautiously stepped inside the large office-like room, the latter immediately stopping as he noticed the man.

“If this is some Blair Witch thing, I am getting the _fuck_ out of here.” Marvin the Magnificent hissed, backing away from the black and white man in the bowler hat.

“Be silent,” Dr Schneeplestein chastised Marvin, stepping closer to the new ego, concerned, “he is nervous. I think you are frightening him.”

As usual, the doctor’s guess turned out to be incorrect. The man suddenly turned around, and upon noticing the others in the room, waved excitedly, his arms moving a bit too wildly, even for one of Jack’s egos. They could see grain and black lines dancing around his form, reminding Marvin of the old films he used to watch while practicing magic.

The doctor seemed to stiffen as he noticed the effects, recalling another ego. But that didn’t matter at that moment, and he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

“Hello, my friend.” He greeted, extending his hand, which the other man shook in a calmer motion than the doctor had expected. “You do not know, vhere you are, I know. Ve…do not either, exactly-“

“Well _that’s_ gonna reassure him,” Marvin commented sarcastically, “While we’re at it, _let’s_ just introduce him to An-“

“Be quiet!”

Marvin shut his mouth, frowning slightly. He moved forwards to sit on the table in the middle of the room, between the other two men. The doctor sighed, readjusting his surgical mask to make sure it wouldn’t fall from his face. He did find it a bit strange that the new ego hadn’t spoken yet.

“Do you maybe have a name?”

The ego nodded, but didn’t make a sound. 

“…May ve know it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you, Schneep.” Marvin commented from where he was now lying back on the table, levitating some playing cards above his head. He flinched as one fell, hitting him in the eye, “Ow, fuck!”

At the suggestion of disliking the doctor, the new ego frantically shook his head, looking apologetic. He then brought his hand up to his throat and tapped it, before shaking his head once more.

“Ah…you maybe cannot talk?” The doctor realised, looking curiously at the man. How strange; Jack’s egos were always so loud; this would create quite a difference. Of course, Robbie also barely spoke, at least not coherently, but it was quite different. He wondered if the would get along. There was also…

“Vell, that is alright, we have another here who cannot talk well, I am very sure you vill get along.” Of course they would, everyone loved Robbie. “You are not alone here; ve also have a friend here who cannot see, but he is away at ze moment.”

He wasn’t quite sure where the Host, or any of Mark’s egos were at that moment. Apart from Dr. Iplier, who apparently never left the building unless he felt like diagnosing random individuals with just…dying, for no real reason. Or maybe they were dying, Schneeplestein didn’t know. He had tried not to think about death since-

“Jameson Jackson? That’s your name?”

The doctor blinked as he heard Marvin talking, and turned to see him holding a scrap of paper on which the ego -apparently named Jameson- had written.

“I like it, we have a lot of “J’s” around here, you’ll fit right in.” Marvin grinned, handing the paper back. He then almost dropped all his cards when a hand reached out from underneath the table to take the paper from Jameson. The rest of the cards floated down to land in a pile as Marvin began excitedly asking about the hand, and talking about magic or something or other.

Schneeplestein didn’t care for magic, he preferred cold hard facts. Mathematics and science that worked. That was completely seperate from magic, or demonic possession, or-

As the two excitable egos conversed (well, Marvin conversed; Jameson just enthusiastically gestured, occasionally stopping to write something down on the papers that the hand passed to him), Schneeplestein excused himself from the room. He quickly shut the door, glad to face the corridor, which had several routes leading to escape. He didn’t know why he felt so…apprehensive all of a sudden. The new ego seemed charming and friendly, and even the quiet was a nice change. But something felt off.

He shook his head, positive that he was just imagining things due to his three hours of sleep. He probably needed another coffee. He decided to introduce Jameson to the rest of the building and the rest of the egos, and stepped back into the room.


	2. Dead Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Robbie felt happy. But sometimes he didn't. It was hard explaining that when no one understood him. Luckily, one of Mark's egos seemed to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Hints of self-hatred.  
> \- Somewhat graphic depictions of body horror.

Sometimes, Robbie felt happy. He liked all the other egos. He liked the flowers that grew everywhere that no one else could see. He even liked the fact that his arm occasionally fell off, because that meant that he could prank people with it, and they would scream then laugh. He liked making people laugh.

But other times, other days, none of those things mattered. The flowers were still there, the other egos were still there. But it didn’t feel the same; they didn’t matter as much as they normally did. He felt as though _he_ was barely there, just a decaying body with a voice that no one could hear, that no one understood half the time. He knew that it was normal to feel like that sometimes, Jackaboy Man had talked to him about it. But Jackaboy was a superhero, he had strength and charm and people to help. Robbie didn’t have any of that. But that was okay.

He spent days like this sitting in the corner (of any room or corridor, it didn’t matter), and usually stayed like that until one of the other egos found him and dragged him to the kitchen, persuading him to eat or drink, or just talk. He didn’t want to (and _couldn’t_ , really) admit that he honestly couldn’t taste anymore, and that talking was pointless when they could barely understand him. Especially Jackie or Marvin with their limited attention spans. Which was why he was currently slumped in the corner of a random corridor, staring at the white walls. He knew that there were pictures hung up, drawings from fans that the egos treasured, but he couldn’t discern them. He usually liked looking at them, but today he definitely didn’t want to look at any drawings of himself.

If he still had fast reflexes, he probably would’ve flinched as he heard a deep voice above him. He looked up to see- no, he wasn’t one of Jack’s egos; he looked nothing like Jack. He had something akin to bandages wrapped over his eyes, but still seemed to gaze into Robbie’s…well, he’d say soul, but he wasn’t sure if the undead kept those.

“The Host notices that one of Jack’s egos, Rob the Zombie, is distressed. He wishes to know what may be done to help.”

As he spoke, the man didn’t move at all, unlike Robbie, who swayed back and forth. He did it almost constantly, seeing as he’d lost most of his balance and strength when he died. The man frightened him a bit, especially as he seemed to know his name.

“Ro….bie…” he mumbled, correcting the other, “Muh…na….” he found he couldn’t continue and gave up with what was meant to be a huff, but sounded more like a growl.

“Robbie. Is there something that the Host can do to improve the situation? The Host could call another ego, or-“

The zombie shook his head slowly, almost falling over as he brought his knees closer to a chest in a way that probably would’ve hurt if he could still feel his limbs. He didn’t know who this man was; he could be there to hurt him. He had noticed that people did seem to love hurting the undead.

“The Host is an ego of Mark’s. He has lived here for years, but has never seen Robbie. He assumes that Robbie is one of Jack’s egos, given his appearance.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that except with a nod, glancing down at his torn striped shirt and discoloured hands. He didn’t really know what he looked like; due to his damaged eyes everything looked blurry to him. Dr Schneeplestein had tried to convince him to wear glasses but it hadn’t really worked out, given that he was missing most of his left ear. Contacts were also out of the question given how often Robbie’s right eye seemed to dislodge itself from his head. But it was fine, he could still see flowers up close. They were the only things he really cared about seeing that much.

But this man was one of Mark’s egos? True, he did generally stay in the Septic egos’ part of the…building? Reality? He still wasn’t sure where they were, but since he couldn’t see it he didn’t really care. But he found it unusual that he had never seen the Host before. He figured that he needed to explore the place more.

“Would Robbie like to talk?” The Host asked calmly, somehow knowing exactly when Robbie was paying attention again, “The Host knows that it is difficult, but he is patient. He knows that Robbie is discontent with his own existence and is able to empathise.”

Robbie made a noise that sounded halfway between a whine and a cough, surprised and almost offended by how the Host knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t like that; didn’t like someone else knowing his thoughts. But on the other hand, if the Host could understand him non-verbally…

“The Host does know what Robbie thinks, to an extent, but can identify his emotions and intentions much easier,” he clarified, finally moving, lowering down to sit next to the zombie with his legs crossed. From what he could discern with his almost useless vision, it vaguely reminded Robbie of a meditative position. “He does agree that it would be the ideal method of communication, considering the Host’s lack of vision and Robbie’s lack of a voice.”

And vision. And he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to write to communicate either, but he’d never tested it. He felt pretty useless, overall.

“The Host-“ he stopped talking as Robbie attempted to focus on a single question in his mind. “Ah, force of habit, I suppose. I was an author once, and have never liked first-person, even as I am now,” He paused, “and sometimes, it is tempting to distance yourself from…yourself. I’m sure you can agree with that feeling.”

Uncurling slightly, Robbie nodded. He felt a bit better, somehow, communicating with the other man. It was nice meeting with another ego that was missing a sense. Still, he pondered, playing with his torn sleeve; staying in the corner all day wouldn’t be a bad course of action.

“If remaining here would make Ro- make you happy, I am willing to provide company,” the Host offered kindly, despite his monotonous tone, “I do have a book here that I would like to continue reading.”

He made an odd noise that sounded nothing like “no problem”, but knew that the Host would understand his thoughts nevertheless. As the other man pulled out a braille copy of what vaguely looked like ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ and began to read, Robbie smiled and leaned his head back on the wall. Maybe he really wasn’t that alone.


	3. Bro-ken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackaboy and Chase are just having target practice when another ego shows up, and the targets become a bit more worrisome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am so sorry for the dumb title of this chapter i honestly couldn't help myself from making a ‘bro’ pun)
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Suicidal thoughts.  
> \- Mentions of past suicide attempt.  
> \- Graphic depiction of an injury.  
> \- Gun Violence (sorta).

“Your aim _sucks_!” Jackaboy Man yelled, laughing over the wind. The superhero was flying, casually hovering off the side of the ego building’s roof while Chase attempted to shoot him with his nerf gun.

“You’re the asshole who chose to do this on the foggiest day in fucking history!” Chase shouted back with no malice, groaning as another shot missed, falling from the air towards…whatever was below them, he didn’t really know. The word “void” sounded cool, so they opted to refer to the world outside the building as that. When they left through the exit doors, they just…appeared in the real world. He assumed that the emptiness surrounding them wouldn’t be fun to disappear into. He was lucky he somehow had an infinity supply of nerf darts.

Target practice was a usual activity for them. It got boring for the egos, especially those with excitable personalities, doing nothing all day, so they tended to practice their abilities. In the opposite situation, Chase would usually fall off the building, timing how long it took for Jackaboy to catch him. They made sure not to let any of the other egos know; Dr Schneeplestein especially would murder them both. Chase knew it was dangerous as hell, knew that if Jackaboy made a mistake, it would probably be the end of him, but he lied to himself, claiming that he was just a risk taker, a thrill seeker. It definitely couldn’t be that he wouldn’t care if he kept falling, even into the void. Definitely not.

In their spare time, both doctors, Schneeplestein and Iplier, usually discussed their (lack of) knowledge about medicine and the human body, while Jameson, Marvin and Wilford practiced…magic? It wasn’t quite clear what Jameson could do, apart from summoning objects, and Wilford was just something else entirely. The others were usually content watching TV, playing video games, or watching the others practice their gimmicks, as Google was doing at that moment. It was a bit disturbing, having him there just staring at them from the corner of the roof, but Chase tried to ignore him. 

“I’m testing your abilities! And they’re pretty shit!”

“I swear you’re moving out of the way, with your super-speed bullshit or something! You have that, right?”

“ **He does not.** ” Google commented. He was stood a few meters behind Chase, making him appear semi-transparent amidst the fog.

“I have everything!” Jackaboy shouted the humanoid search engine, glaring at him. 

Chase grinned, determined to beat his arrogant superhero friend. He decided to put on his “Bro Average” voice, just for fun.

“Okay, pyjama-boy, this one’s called… _the Payback Panic_!”

“That does even make se- ow!” Jackaboy cursed as one of the darts hit him in the face while Chase whooped and threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, that one was pretty good. You know, for a muggle.”

“You’re a superhero not a wizard, Jackie, get your head out of your arse!” Chase scoffed, still ecstatic from his successful shot, “It’s annoying even when _Marvin_ says that!” He rolled his eyes as he heard Google speaking from behind him, his tone slightly more…human than usual. Still, he didn’t really care. “Shut up, Google, I’m being awesome here!”

” **Warning: The** -“

“Ignore him, he’s probably having a breakdown analysing my badassery and your suckiness,” said Jackaboy, now hovering upside down and slightly less visible through all the fog. “C-come on, k-k̨e̛e͡p̛ shooting.”

Chase furrowed his brow as Jackaboy seemed to stutter a bit. He’d never done that before, he always had the strongest, most confident voice in the group. Well, of Jack’s egos anyway.

“Hey dude, you alright?” He asked, rubbing the side of his head with the gun. He noticed that it was his scar that he was scratching and instantly changed the gun to his other hand. He didn’t need to think about that right now. “If you’re cold, we can go back inside, agree that I totally won this time?”

Jackaboy stayed quiet while Google continued speaking. Chase started to become annoyed, spinning round to face the android and yell at him once more. 

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is your proble-?“

“ ** _Error, Error, Error…_** ” The android’s face almost appeared scared as the word continuously fell from his lips. He noticed that his entire eyes, scleras and all, had turned bright blue.

“Google?” Chase was apprehensive now. He’d never seen Google crash; he didn’t know it was even possible. He wondered if he should fetch one of the doctors to help. “Can I do something? Uh, a system reset? Switch you on and off again?”

" **System Failure**."

That didn't sound good. As he tried to get Google’s attention, Chase noticed that Jackaboy’s stuttering was justified, given that it getting much colder. He would’ve cursed the British weather if he even knew where they were. 

“Hey, Jackie, can you help me get Google inside?” Chase called over his shoulder. It was either that or one of them would go get one of the doctors to come up, but it was gradually becoming freezing, and Chase knew that wasn’t good for any of them, human or not. “Jackie, bro, come on.”

The silence was almost worse than the awful noise that followed, as the cold whiteness stretched around them. Chase could barely see Google anymore, only part of his shirt, the crumpled blue held tightly in his grip. He couldn’t see Jackaboy at all now when he glanced back towards where he had been hovering, and started to panic.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Jackaboy! Just say something!” He attempted to shove Google towards the rooftop door but the ego was like a rock, and didn’t move an inch. Or at least didn’t feel like he moved; Chase still couldn’t see most of him. “Jackie, Google, come on, please…”

"No ҉w͜on̢der ̨sh͝e ̸le̷f̵t yo͜u, this ̡is ̕p̀athet̀ic̨."̨

He knew that voice, they all knew that voice. They’d never wanted to hear it again. Chase sucked in a cold breath, gripping Google's shirt even tighter.

"W͡o̕rt̶h͜l͜e̴ss p͢i͞e͏c̷è o̷f͏ trash̕,͢ ̸t͡hat͟s wha̧t sh͠e ̶cal͡le͜d̴ you͜,͘ ͜r͝i͟g͘h̶t? S͝he҉ ̧ha͟d̡ a̕ po͟ín̸t, just look҉ ̵at ̴yo͞ur̸s͠elf͢!"͢

“Shut the _fuck_ up, glitch.” Chase hissed through his teeth, not turning around to face the demon, not wanting to show the fear on his face. “Leave us alone, no one wants you here.”

He was suddenly torn away from Google, spun round to face…Jackaboy?

_Oh no, no, no…_

"́I ca͟n͠ lȩąv̸e͡, s̛ure̸." Jackaboy’s face snarled, skin tinged slightly green -eyes especially- but missing Anti’s usual glitches and static. He stood about a meter away from Chase, somehow completely visible through the same fog that obscured Google. "Bu͟t̢ ͠t͞h͝e͡n͞ ͏I'm̨ a͟lśo t͞a͜kiņg͜ hi͝m.́"

As Anti spoke, Chase didn’t even notice his own hand -the one holding the gun- moving. He only noticed it right as it was pointed directly at Jackaboy’s (Anti’s?) face. Anti grinned, and Chase also noticed the glitches surrounding his arm, and the fact that it wasn’t a nerf gun anymore.

"Gò o͡n͏ ͡then,̵ s̨hoot ̷h҉im!"̢

 _No_. 

“̴Ma̕yb͏e̡ ̴ýo͠u͞’̨ll̶ ͘k͞i̛ll ̵m͢ȩ, who ̡kn͡o̸ws̷? Y͏o҉u’͜ll ͟de͏fín͏it̵ely͠ kill̶ ̴your lit̴t̷l͟e͢ h͠erǫ.͢ ҉B̡u̡t ͘if̢ y̸ơu ͢d̵o͏n̴’̕t st͘op me̷ ͡n͘o̶w,̕ ͏I’ļl ̀k̢ìll e̷v̧ery̷one yoú lo͞v͜e̷.”͏

_You won't._

“͘Į’͠ll̕ kill Tayl̶o̴r͢ ̧and Huņt̸e͞r.̴”̷

 _Never_.

“Is̨ ͏ỳo͢ur̕ her҉o͢ r̵e̴a͡l̴ly̸ w͡o̕r̀t̶h ̸alĺ ̢th̀is?”

Chase was shaking completely now, and it was nothing to do with the cold. He could feel that control of his arm now belonged to him again and instantly lowered it. He thought of his children, he could hear them, laughing. Then screaming. Then silence. He would be alone again. The egos would be targeted. Everyone would get hurt, and it would all be his fault.

“Yes.” He answered simply, raising the gun again and shooting into the air behind Jackaboy's form. He flinched as he heard his friend’s voice cry out, and a green, glitching body fell through the sky, landing destructively on the concrete of the now-visible roof. Jackaboy also slumped over, as Chase caught him in his arms and lowered to the ground to lay him down. The hero was still breathing, he could see that. He turned around to see Google still standing behind them, his eyes no longer blank.

“ **Rebooting** -“

 _"Go get help_ _!"_ Chase screamed at the android, hoping that it could hear and understand him, before turning back to his hero friend. "Come on, Jackie, bro, wake _up_..."

He wasn’t crying, he definitely wasn’t crying…

"̛Y̕ou pi̛ece͜ of ̨s̕h̀it͢..." Chase didn’t know if he should’ve felt relieved when he heard Anti’s weak voice coming from his usual glitching self, knowing that Jackaboy was probably back in his own body. He didn’t even know that bullets could hurt the demon. “̨Ýou͜ th̢ink̕ you͠’͢re ͟ cl͢eve̡r?” the demon hissed, attempting to get up from the floor, despite the four expanding patches of blood soaking his shirt.

“Totally...” Chase muttered, voice still shaky due to his current state of panic. He looked down and tried to carefully remove the hood and mask from Jackaboy’s face, but found that his hands were still shaking, almost violently. He opted to try and wake the man, gently shaking his shoulder. He wanted to ask Google for help, but knew that he wouldn’t respond. “You’re...you're the supposed _demon_ who’s apparently weak to _bullets_.”

At his rebuttal, Anti screamed in anger, before suddenly shifting to laugher, “͘Y͡o̧u  k͜now, I ̛t̀hin͞k pre̶fe͞r͡red̡ y̶ou w̨hen͢ yo̕u ͢were̢ ͢h̷a̡lf͜ - _D͢e͠A̶D̀_. **”**

Chase's face dropped, his hand almost automatically moving to smooth his baseball hat over the scars covering the right side of his head. God, he hated how Anti knew everything about them. He took a breath, reminding himself to stop thinking of himself while Jackie was hurt. 

He was about to shoot back an insult when the scars in question suddenly exploded with pain, white spots blooming across his vision. He jolted upright in shock, suddenly feeling nauseous and lightheaded. He didn’t even have to touch his head for the blood to soak his hands, knees and part of Jackaboy's costume. He felt like vomiting, holding his head and rocking back and forth while still kneeling by Jackaboy’s side.

“No, no, _please_ no... _not again_ …”

It felt almost exactly the same as before, the growing pain, the hopeless feeling. This time he hoped that he had at least saved someone, for once. 

"D͝on't̢ worr̕y,̵ ̸n̷o o̶ǹe w̶įll c͝r̀y̨ ̸f͏oŗ y̶o̷u͡.̨"

“Fuck you…Anti…” Chase gasped through the burning pain, before slumping over next to his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of these fics are very much inspired by the headcannons of Septic-Dr-Schneep on Tumblr (please go check them out they're awesome), so thats why I'm writing it as if Chase did attempt to kill himself in the Bro Average video, but was saved by the other egos. Anti loves bringing it up.
> 
> (Also I literally googled "cool American names" when trying to come up with names for Chase's kids, help)


	4. Bro-ken (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase wakes up, and he isn't dead, but the atmosphere sure is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Non-graphic descriptions of injury.  
> \- Suicidal thoughts.  
> \- Non-graphic description of suicide attempt.
> 
> \- Honestly very inaccurate descriptions of how injuries and science work.

“We didn’t fail-“

“Ve failed.”

“Be optimistic! Chase shot Anti in, like, the face, maybe! That probably helped weaken him!”

“Zey were hurt! Zis was my fear, and it has come true. I knew zat he vould return, and Chase has paid for it.”

“You saved him.”

“I do not know. I cannot know what An- what the demon did to him. I pray that he will heal faster than the last time.”

Chase groaned at the voices next to his head, not so much at the noise but at the things they were saying. God, could they just have one day where they didn’t have to worry about demons? _One?!_

He slowly opened his eyes, rubbing away the sleep. He was in a small, white room, with a desk and medical charts hung on every wall. Not many of them looked accurate. It took him a few more seconds to realise that he was lying in a bed, with bandages wrapped around his head in a way that seemed slightly excessive. He almost panicked for a moment until he noticed his hat sitting on one of the plastic chairs near him. He snatched it up and hurriedly put it on, not caring about how tight it was around the bandages.

“Chase! You are awake!” Dr. Schneeplestein breathed in relief as Dr. Iplier stepped forward.

“I’m sorry, you’re dying-“ Mark’s ego was cut off as Schneeplestein slapped him upside the head.

“Zis is _not_ the time!”

“I apologise.”

“...Did you really come in here _just_ to say that?” Marvin questioned Dr Iplier. 

Chase groaned again at the doctors and let his head fall back on the pillow. Maybe dying would’ve been better than having to deal with these two. Okay, that was a _major_ exaggeration, but he did have a morbid sense of humour. That was one thing he shared with the demon, he supposed.

“What happened?” His voice was muffled due to his hands covering his face. “Did my head explode again?” 

“No.” 

“Kinda.”

“Yes, you’re dy-“ at the others’ expressions, Dr. Iplier coughed awkwardly, moving to stand further away. 

“Anyway, like I said, it kinda did.” Marvin joked, although his voice sounded strained.

“Zat is a lie.” Schneeplestein sighed, taking off his glasses and fiddling with them. He’d already broken three doing that. “Ze demon opened an old wound. If ze magician had not found you three in time, you vould have died.”

Wait, three?

“Wait, where’s Jackie!? And Google?” He suddenly shot up, hand flying up to his scalp at the pain, “Were they hurt?! I can’t…we can’t lose him, doc...” 

Schneeplestein panicked slightly as Chase's heart rate sped up significantly, while Marvin waved his hand to magically open the curtain next to the bed, revealing Jackaboy sleeping in the next one. He looked odd without his mask and red suit. Small. Helpless. Dr. Iplier had left the room by then, muttering something about dying and cheating and some other bad news. 

“Jackie…” Chase breathed, craning his neck to the side almost painfully, “Jackie, I’m so _sorry_ , I didn’t know what to do, I… _I_ …” 

“Google just needed to restart, the glitches messed with his systems a bit. He's the one that got help. And Jackaboy-" Marvin placed a hand on Chase's shoulder as his breathing quickened, gently pushing him to lie back on the bed and stop staring at their unconscious friend, "-he’s completely fine, he’s literally taking a nap.” The magician sat down on the Chase’s bed, readjusting his mask. “You didn’t hurt him. You didn’t hurt anyone, you _literally_ saved everyone. From Anti.  _That’s_ pretty magnificent.” 

Chase still felt awful. He’d shot his best friend, and even if it wasn’t his body that received the damage, he could bet that Jackaboy had felt the pain of the bullet. He knew how much they hurt.

“You are being assigned rest now.” The doctor sounded tired. “You vill not be allowed to leave his bed for _three_ days.”

Chase nodded, still looking at Jackaboy sleeping. Schneep continued.

“You deserve sleep now. The rest of us vill be still here and safe when you awake.” The doctor smiled sadly at his friend before leaving the room. 

He knew why Schneep was being so careful. Usually the doctor was so enthusiastic about his work, about helping them through colds, or allergies, or even things as small and insignificant as paper cuts. But this wasn't small or insignificant, this was a bullet wound. A reopened bullet wound on the side of his head. He'd barely known the doctor when the wound was originally...made. He'd been a new ego, dropped into their realm with only a good aim and a failing Youtube channel and a hole in his life shaped like a made-up family that didn't love him anymore, that didn't want him at _all_. What the hell did Jack think was gonna happen? But he'd survived it. Through the blood, and crying, and horrible-sounding surgeries that he never wanted to hear about, he'd survived.

He'd met most of the Septic egos during the following week (they healed quickly here, none of them really understood why. But it made the doctors' lives slightly easier), the few bandages still wrapped around his head hidden by his hat. But they all knew; Schneeplestein had told them. They all looked at him like _that_ , with all that _pity_ in their eyes. It took months for them to look at him as anything other than a sad, injured child. Luckily his enthusiasm for video games, nerf gun shooting and skateboarding eventually overshadowed his rocky start, and the other egos stopped thinking about it as much, treating Chase as just another ego. Which was all he wanted. He didn't _want_ a painful backstory; why had Jack given him one? It wasn't fair. Robbie and Jameson appeared after everything had settled down into normality, so no one had thought to tell them. Chase supposed that they would definitely be told now, unless Schneep decided not to share exactly what happened. He still wasn’t sure how much Mark’s egos knew.

He took a few deep breaths, sitting up to speak to Marvin but noticing that his friend was being unusually silent, staring down at his hands. He swallowed, feeling as though he'd done something wrong. Again.

"Marv?"

At the sound of his name, the magician's head, as well as the sheets covering both him and Jackaboy shot up, the sheets actually floating in mid-air for a moment. The sheets immediately fell back down as the magician blinked, carefully smoothed along the beds and tucked in as well. He hadn't realised that Marvin could be so neat when distracted.

"Sorry...I..." his eyes flitted around as if searching for an excuse, "...it's nothing, I was just worried. About you guys." Chase was about to reply when it all came spilling out from Marvin. "I just-! You- you were both there, looking _dead_ as hell on the roof, and I _knew_ it had been Anti cause Google told me, but, but seeing you- with all that _blood_  coming from your head going everywhere, _again_ , and I thought...I thought you'd..."

Marvin didn't finish, but they both knew what he couldn't say out loud.

_I thought you'd shot yourself again._

"Marv, bro, you know I wouldn't..."

"How?! _How_  would I know that?! You did it before-"

"I wouldn't do that to _you_ guys!" Chase immediately regretted raising his voice as the pain behind his eyes flared up, causing him to hiss and hold his hands in his hands, "I didn't...before, I didn't have any of you...I know you were _there_ , but I didn't really _know_ you. I just had Stacy, and the _kids_ , and they didn't want me, _no one_ wanted me, and... _and_..."

Boy, this was not the direction he was trying to take with his "reassurance". Wasn't Marvin the one panicking? Why did he have to make it all about _himself?_

Marvin sighed, apparently having calmed down a little. The mask hid a great deal.

"You have us _now_. And we _never_ leave another ego behind. Unless it's Anti but he's a prick, so..." Marvin shook his head, carefully tugging the hat off Chase's. Shit, that was a lot of blood on his favourite hat. "Okay, so, because I _care_ for you, I'm _not_ gonna yell at you for being a _dumbass_ and putting that hat back on when you've got like a _billion_ bandages wrapped around your big head." His friend appeared a bit queasy holding the blood-soaked hat, "Fuck, you're bleeding again. Like, a _lot_. I'm gonna call Schneep back in."

"Marv, wait-" Chase reached out as his friend started to leave, grabbing at his sleeve. "Thank you, for saving me. And Jackie, especially. I'm sorry that you saw me like... _that_ , but I swear on my life, and my _entire_  BroAverage Youtube channel-"

"That's going a bit far."

"-that I will _never_...that you'll _never_ see something like that again." 

Marvin paused at his words, smiling at Chase before his sleeve was let go, and he rushed from the room to grab the doctor. He could see that the pity had returned and hated it. But he guessed that pity was better than apathy.

He looked over towards where Jackaboy was sleeping and sighed. Of course, he _couldn't_ make promises like that, especially with Anti still looming over them like a stupid, emo shadow (Wilford's words, not his). But...there wasn't much he wouldn't sacrifice to keep his friends safe. Even if his friends would disagree with ~~who~~ what was worth sacrificing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chase is my favourite and i love him and no, i don't know why i keep hurting him but hey at least he's alive aaaaaah
> 
> (I wrote this at like 2am so please let me know about any mistakes cause I'm too tired to be able to see them)


	5. Red, Blue and Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark wants to keep his existence from the Septic egos for a reason. Wilford either doesn't understand, or doesn't care for it. Probably both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Non-graphic descriptions of injury.

He wasn’t crazy. He just wasn’t. Well, maybe he _was_ , but not concerning _this_ particular situation. It really depended on who he was talking to, whether they knew about the shadow cast upon the building. It was odd, he thought, for some to be afraid of his dear friend. But he supposed that the Septic egos had enough reasons to fear demons already. Still, it irritated him to see them completely ignore Dark's existence, especially as he was so kind not to kill any of them. Not that killing really mattered, they would always come back, right?

“I do not appreciate all zis talk of demons, Vilford. These stories are imaginative, but do not help our An-….our _real_ demon problem.” 

“Bro, we already know you’re crazy, you don’t need to convince us more.”

“Ha! I bet this ‘Dark’ couldn’t stand a chance against me! I’d superhero-punch him, _right_ in the dick!”

“…uh…dah….”

Alright, he wasn’t exactly sure what Robbie had been trying to say, but it was _probably_ also dismissive. Unfortunately Google had stopped him before he'd stabbed the zombie in irritation. Come on, it wasn’t like zombies could die _again_. God, they were all so dull. And ignorant.

“You know, Dark…” He warbled, crossing his arms in front of the empty room’s television screen, “you’re being _extraordinarily_ rude to…who is it…those Irish…whatevers. I know it’s a tragedy that we can’t _grievously_ injure or murder them…but it’s not so bad out here…”

“I do not need to meet them.” An echoed voice suddenly rang out from the switched off television, and Dark's image flickered onto the screen, “They are unimportant, you should not be distracted by them. Although I am not entirely surprised that you have been.”

Wilford rolled his eyes, “ _They_ say that there’s another demon here! You could try to kill it, that could be fun… Or let _me_ do it, I think I’ve been having stabbing withdrawals!” At least spending time with Yandere allowed him to have a _little_ fun, she had weapons to play with and an equally fragile grasp of reality and morality. But the lack of opportunities to utilise those tools irritated him to no end.

The entire television -not just the screen- warped at the mention of the glitch demon, blue and red stretching out from its shape.

“ _Weak_.” Dark’s voice hissed, “Attention-seeking; it cannot survive without an audience, which _you_ apparently intend to give it.”

“He seems nice!” Wilford shrugged exaggeratedly, “Yandere and I tried to start a little chat with him about knives when he showed up once. He stabbed me a bit, it was _hilarious_!”

“What!?”

“I said it what hila-“

It seemed as though the whole room groaned and sighed as the shape of a man stepped out from one of the shadows cast on the wall. The entire room became noticeably darker, but still remained mostly visible.

“Ah, _there_ you are! Anyway, as I was saying about the whole _stabbing_ that darned demon thing…”

“If you’re having “withdrawals”, as you say…” Dark frowned, cracking his neck, “why don’t you simply step out of our reality and do whatever you’d like?”

“Host won’t let me. He says that killing people, with _my_ face, will ruin Mark’s _reputation_ or something! It’s ridiculous, I’d be _much_ more inclined to watch a murderer than a dumb _gamer_!”

At the mention of Mark’s name, he noticed Dark’s fists clenching as his red aura burst out before returning to normal. He didn’t really understand why; Dark didn’t like many people, anyway. Or maybe it was still because of that other demon, oh, he _did_ want to try and shoot him, that sounded fun. He knew he wasn’t allowed to stab, shoot, strangle, drown or bludgeon any of the other egos, but maybe this one wasn’t an ego? Sure, maybe he _looked_ almost exactly like Jack, but that wouldn’t count if he had his eyes closed while aiming, right? 

Dark stayed silent. God, it was times like these when Wilford missed Damien, wherever he’d…gone off to. Probably on holiday. _He’d_ be more supportive. Not that he used to shoot or stab people; he probably thought that they stayed dead, poor man. But he had supported Wilford. He did miss Damien; he wondered if he’d send a postcard or something soon.

“Alright,” he huffed dramatically, “if you’re going to be _boring_ , you can just _hop_ back into your TV! Go watch paint dry or whatever you do. You remind me of…“

He stopped, realising that he couldn’t remember their name. No matter.

Dark sighed, relaxing his intimidating stance slightly. “Will…Wilford, I understand your irritation at the lack of…amusement here. Sean’s egos-“

“Who?”

“-clearly aren’t interested in our efforts to take back control.”

“Well,” Wilford huffed slightly, “they seem to like their…Jeffrey…John… _whoever_.” 

“You didn’t even try there.”

“They respect him! They think he’s so _great_ , and funny, and Irish and…ugh…” he trailed off over dramatically, his words becoming almost incoherent as his jaw wobbled.

Maybe it was envy. About how their creator was so perfect, and never hurt anyone. Or maybe he was just antsy after having not stabbed anyone in a while. He’d heard that the superhero and the one in the silly hat (Jackaboy-something and Chase, was it?) often had target practice, maybe he should consider joining them…

“No, definitely envy.” Dark said it with a straight face, as always, but he could almost hear a hint of smugness in his voice. He wasn’t sure if he loved or hated how Dark seemed to always know what he was thinking.

“I’m leaving,” he said after a pause, his voice steadier than usual. He then bowed over-exaggeratedly to Dark, “Go back to hiding, you’re _great_ at-“

He hadn’t realised why Dark had frozen up all of a sudden until he turned around, noticing almost all of the Septic egos standing in the doorway. Staring at them. He heard the ringing noise behind him grow louder as the room flared red, and knew that they were in trouble now.

The egos all had different expressions on their faces. Jackaboy seemed defensive, hiding Robbie -who looked rather bored- behind him. Chase essentially looked terrified, compulsively rubbing the side of his head. Marvin and Dr Schneeplestein both appeared shocked, but the doctor also looked as if he was ready to punch Dark, and Wilford almost laughed considering how absurd that would be. He knew that there was meant to be another one -a charming yet silent chap with a moustache almost as wonderful as Wilford’s own- but wasn’t sure where he was.

“Uh, hi?” Marvin offered, apparently trying to -unsuccessfully- summon some type of helpful magic, not taking his eyes off the slowly approaching Dark. “We were just…passing through and heard you, uh, Wilford talking and…”

Marvin suddenly made an odd squeak as his mouth seemed to shut by itself, lips stuck together. He slapped his hands to his mouth as Schneeplestein panicked, pulling Marvin out of the room with him, apparently to fix whatever was wrong with him. Huh, Wilford didn’t know that Dark could do that; Marvin must have _really_ been pissing him off.

“I don’t _care_ why you’re here.” Dark hissed, stepping close to the remaining egos, all of whom appeared close to screaming (even Jackieboy; Wilford had plenty of experience killing those with facades of confidence), “I don’t _care_ what you heard. You _children_  apparently don't understand how _private_ conversations work. So, I am going to give you _three_ seconds to leave this room before I trap you somewhere you really, _really_ don’t want to be.”

Robbie has already casually wandered away by the time Dark had begun to threaten them. Chase started to stumble away as well, clinging onto Jackaboy’s suit, but the red-clad ego remained in place, shaking his head at Chase with an almost offended expression on his face.

“Bro, come on, you’re gonna get killed!” Chase seemed to struggle to pull his friend away, which Wilford assumed was due to the hero’s stupid, _cheating_ super-strength.

_“Three.”_

“I can defeat him, I’ll save you guys from _this_ demon, at least!” Jackaboy bravely(?) retorted, stepping closer to Dark.

“No, I am not losing anyone else!”

_“Two.”_

Wilford almost yawned as the two egos argued, knowing that Dark wouldn’t actually kill or hurt either of them. The man did like to put on a show. Or maybe he would, Wilford didn’t know.

_“One.”_

When the two egos flew backwards out of the room, the door slamming after them, he wasn’t quite sure if it had been Dark’s doing, or if Jackaboy had simply stopped resisting, allowing himself to topple backwards along with Chase. He chose to believe the latter; it was funnier.

Dark stayed silent as he glared towards the door, his red aura almost completely engulfing the blue. For the first time in their discussion, Will felt at least a little apprehensive.

“Well, that was-“

“Pathetic. You were correct, they all seem occupied with being afraid of their _own_ …monster. I’m content with the circumstances remaining that way. Now. About _you_ leaving the door open, for the entire _building_ to hear us…”

Dark stepped forwards menacingly but Wilford simply rolled his eyes.

“Oh come now, Dark, it isn’t like they weren’t gonna find out about you _eventually!_ Who _else_ leaves eyeliner pencils everywhere?”

He was joking there, obviously. Oddly, Dark seemed to hate that accusation almost as much as Celine used to; her argument being that he’d only slipped and fallen due to a pencil _one_ _time_. He wondered if she still left pencils around, wherever she was.

Dark seemed to glare at him even harder as he thought of Celine. He wondered why.

“Get out.”

“Dark-“

_“Now!”_

He huffed, simply strolling out of the room. Dark didn’t scare him, he never had; he’d been Wilford’s only friend since the others…left. He always knew that he wouldn’t hurt him. Somehow. Maybe it was the whole “mad” thing again. But it hadn’t killed him or hurt anyone yet, so why stop?

The door slammed behind him as he stepped out into the corridor, hitting him in the shoulder. He turned to walk away, ignoring the apparent surgery happening on Marvin’s mouth just in the opposite room, visible through the glass wall. He’d be fine, probably. Marvin had survived worse; during a display of his abilities in one practice session involving himself, Wilford and Jameson, he’d somehow transported himself inside a table, almost ripping his arm in half. Extremely bloody. Wilford vividly remembered it, that day had been wonderfully enjoyable. He also remembered eating a great amount of sweets that day, and felt his stomach rumble at the recollection.

The kitchen wasn’t as empty as he’d hoped. Jackaboy Man and Chase were already in there sitting by the dining table, the former absentmindedly tapping on his mug of what looked like hot chocolate, while Chase was apparently close to finishing his sixth beer. He was hiccuping a lot. 

“Hello, boys.” He greeted cheerfully. Jackaboy looked up in surprise and apparent suspicion before waving apprehensively, while Chase simply hummed in tired acknowledgement, not bringing the beer down from his lips. “Did you enjoy meeting Dark?” 

Both men seemed to tense up.

“Warfstache, listen…” Jackaboy sighed, dropping what would seemed -even to Wilford- like an excessive amount of mini marshmallows into his drink. “I get that, uh, Dark is your…friend? Whatever, anyway, just tell us-“ he glanced over at Chase, who was drowsily struggling to open his seventh bottle before chugging half of it and letting his head fall onto his arms on the table, “-tell _me_ if he’s really dangerous. He hurt Marvin, and that’s _not_ okay; you better hope that Scheep can fix it.”

“Aw, come now, Dark was just having a bit of fun there! The magician’ll live!”

“That means literally _nothing_ coming from you.” Chase slurred, his voice slightly muffled due to his head being buried in his crossed arms.

“Warfstache...” Jackaboy warned, gently tugging Chase’s beer bottle from his friend’s shaking hand and moving it out of reach. “You know I would never hurt anybody unless it was absolutely necessary. But if this man poses a threat-”

“He doesn’t.” Wilford wasn’t sure if he was being honest, but didn’t really care, “He doesn’t like you fellas, but he ~~probably~~ won’t actually kill any of you. Seems like _you’re_ the group with the bitchy demon who wants to kill everyone. Dark’s a _sweetheart_ , he just won’t let anyone see.”

Jackaboy frowned at Wilford, hand gripping his friend’s shoulder. He stood up, walking around the table to the moustachioed man, unperturbed by the fact that he was slightly shorter than him.

“If he hurts any of my friends again, I will do _whatever_ I can to take him down.”

Wilford smiled goofily at the other man, having missed such admirable yet ill-advised boldness. If he could, he would probably stab the fellow, right there and then, for a laugh. He may joke about insignificant things like death and pain, but he would not let someone hurt Dark. His only friend. His fingers twitched.

“No…offence meant, _hero-boy,_ but I’d like to see any of you lot try.” He chuckled as he sauntered from the room, swinging the bag of marshmallows that he’d stolen from Jackaboy. He couldn't understand why they were being so serious all of a sudden; it was like they were trying to hold onto some moral high-ground. How _boring_. Maybe Yandere was right, the Septic egos sure _would_ be fun to hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot that Yandereplier was an ego and HAD to add references to her (not sure if I'll do any drabbles containing her, we'll see). Also yes, I use female pronouns for her, I hope that doesn't offend anyone.
> 
> No, I'm still not entirely confident with my characterisations of Wilford/William or Dark, but I'm trying ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Are they good guys? Bad guys? Who knows, certainly not me.
> 
> Also I’m tempted to write a hanahaki drabble/s, anyone got any suggestions of pairings for me to throw in a whirlpool of angst? (Or I could do a happy ending, if that’s your thing)


	6. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unrequited love was bad news. Especially when it could literally kill you.
> 
> (Request for a Dr. Iplier/Host Hanahaki fic came from the awesome HopeWolfgang)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Mentions of blood.  
> \- Non-graphic depictions of (sort-of?) injury.  
> \- Moral ambiguity? (but come on, what do you expect from these guys)

“Whatcha got there, Robbo?” Marvin asked above Robbie’s head. It wasn’t that Robbie was sitting or crouching; Marvin was simply standing upside-down on the living room’s ceiling above him, staring down curiously. Dr. Schneeplestein -sunk halfway into an oversized beanbag chair at the other side of the room- glanced up at the magician for a second, before sighing and returning to his book. Robbie mumbled for a moment before attempting to answer coherently.

“Dah...daff...uh...”

“A flower?”

Robbie hummed in conformation, holding the yellow flower up to Marvin’s upside-down face.

“Oh cool, a daffodil.” Marvin tugged the flower from the zombie’s hand, peering at it closely before allowing dozens of identical flowers to fall up away from him and down in front of Robbie. As soon as they touched the floor, they stood up vertically, as if having been planted in the carpet. “There you go, you’ve got a whole garden now!”

Marvin’s joyful expression fell from his face as Robbie scowled and snatched the original daffodil back.

“Uh, where did you get it?” Marvin tried not to look to disappointed as he waved his hand to get rid of the small daffodil garden.

“Ip... _Ip_...doc...”

“Dr. Iplier? Never knew he liked gardening. Maybe he has a sweetheart...ooh, maybe _you’re_ his sweetheart, Robbie!”

Robbie shook his head, swatting at Marvin’s giggling, upside-down face. Damn he hated his lack of a proper voice. He tried to explain what he’d seen; how Dr. Iplier had been choking, almost vomiting up yellow flowers and petals when he’d thought no one else was there. Scooping them up into his shaking arms, and accidentally letting one flower drop down near his feet. He hadn’t noticed Robbie slumped in the corner until he’d started to leave the room, and had shot the zombie a panicked look before hurrying through the door.

He’d picked it up. It looked nice. Occupied with the little Welsh flower, he’d quickly forgotten to be curious or worried about the doctor. But since Marvin was being so annoyingly incorrect with his assumptions...

“Wait, what are you-“ Marvin dropped down from the ceiling, landing on the floor gracefully as he tried to stop Robbie from shoving the flower in his mouth. “It’s not for eating, stop that.”

Robbie shoved him away, pointing at his mouth. He tried to simulate coughing (it ended up looking more similar to a small seizure), spitting the flower out into his hands, and then gestured to Dr. Iplier’s spare coat that was hung up. He whined slightly as he glanced down and saw that the flower in his hands was now slightly misshapen and bloody. Marvin’s questions were far away as he tried to fix the flower, ignoring the world around him.

He looked up after a while, realising that the room was now empty, and that Marvin and Scheep were both gone. Returning to focus on the flower, he barely even realised that the blood splashed across the petals wasn’t even his.

————————————

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fi- _argh_!” Dr. Iplier gasped as his lungs burned, feeling as though the inside of his chest was on fire. “I can fix this, it’s _fine_...”

He wasn’t fine. He was the complete opposite of fine; dying, and without another handsome half-Korean doctor around to tell him that. Such a burden, to diagnose everyone with death. It was exhausting, but as it turned out, dying was even more exhausting. It was obvious when it had started. It hadn’t been a simple disease; someone coughing in his face or sharing some food that shouldn’t have been shared. No, it had been the first time he’d seen that smile. That goddamn beautiful smile that had brightened his day, no, his _month_.

It was a common occurrence - him having to change The Host’s bandages. There wasn’t a schedule or anything; it just happened whenever he noticed that the white cloth covering his friend's eyes had become heavily bloodstained, or whenever The Host had asked. Really it was usually the former; The Host asked for help very rarely, and only when in dire need. Dr. Iplier preferred not to let it reach that point. They talked about anything and everything while The Host’s eye trauma was being looked at; it helped distract the former writer from the pain, and Dr. Iplier from the gruesome, unhealing wounds in the other’s face.

The first time he’d offered to change the bandages, it had been an...unpleasant experience. They had not been changed since The Host was first created, and were made of simple ripped cloth. Thin white cloth. White that was almost completely stained with dark red by the time that they had met.

_“Well the bad news is that you apparently have no eyes, and the bandages aren’t doing much to help stem the bleeding. In other bad news, you also appear to have Hemophilia-“_

_“The Host wishes to know whether the talkative doctor will remain quiet until the tedious talk is completed. The Host is_ well-aware _of all of the mentioned issues.”_

The words spoken by the Host had been hissed so viciously that the bandages hadn’t been changed for the following two months. Even after he’d agreed to allow Dr. Iplier to change them again, there was little more than a greeting uttered for another five weeks.

But now, their discussions had actually become quite pleasant. They talked about writing, about science, about the other Egos and themselves. The doctor found that they could be talking for hours, and it would only feel like minutes. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? A few weeks ago, when the Host had finally smiled -a genuine, almost adorable _goddamn_ smile- at one of his self-deprecating jokes, his breath had caught in his throat, and that had been it.

_“Is the doctor alright? He has been silent for a while.”_

_“Uh...yes, yes, just...remembered something. Wait, I thought you could tell what we’re thinking?”_

_“The Host has the ability, yes, but prefers to respect the others’ privacy. He respects Dr. Iplier’s, at the very least.”_

_“I...Anyway, as you were saying about the theory of alternate universes...”_

_“Ah yes, you are a great listener, my friend..._

That night, he’d gone to his bathroom and vomited flower petals for an hour.

Daffodils -

Respect. Uncertainty. Chivalry.

_Unrequited love._

Dr. Iplier wasn’t even sure why he knew that, but the flower’s meanings seemed to have been burned into his mind, the latter meaning poking at his thoughts at every possible moment. He never really liked flowers. They caused allergies, and attracted bees which led to bee stings, and most flowers just looked damn odd. He supposed he’d hate them even more when this was over. Well, maybe not, considering the very likely possibility that he’d be dead.

He groaned and curled up near the edge of his bed, as if leaving room for another person. Another person who could hold him, who could reassure him that everything would be okay, who could make the pain fade for a while. But he knew that The Host would never want that, and as soon as he focused on the other’s name, pain ripped through his chest again. He struggled to breathe as his coughs filled with flowers and petals. It was hard to miss how red they had turned, and he tried not to think about it.

Why? _Why_ did he have to fall for the one person that he _knew_ would never love him back?"

It was fine. He was fine.

He was a _doctor_ , he could fix this.

“Iplier, _open zis door!”_

Alright, well, maybe just any doctor would do.

“It’s...it’s not locked.” He wheezed, forcing the last of the petals out of his throat and onto the bed beside him. With great difficulty, he pushed himself onto his feet, barely making it past the edge of the bed before collapsing next to it. Back leaning on the wood frame, he resigned himself to sitting on the floor. It wasn’t like comfort was easily achieved in his current state, anyway.

Dr. Schneeplestein cautiously opened the bedroom door, barely making a sound as he rushed to kneel at Iplier’s side. He immediately brought a stethoscope up to the other’s chest, frowning at whatever he was hearing.

“How long?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been suffering from ze Hanahaki?”

Oh, so it had a name. That made him feel simultaneously better and worse.

“A few weeks.” His voice was rough, “How do _you_ know about it?”

“Ze disease itself or your secret?” When Iplier didn’t answer, Schneep answered both, “I discovered it vhen another one of us contracted it, about a year ago. I know your secret because you are about as subtle as...vell, Wilford. About _zis_ , anyway.”

That was probably accurate; he wasn’t great with secrets. Whenever he heard any sort of news ( _especially_ bad), he had to let everyone know, no matter how private the information was. Sometimes he was glad that he didn’t even have a medical license that could be taken away.

“I’m sorry, I’m dying.” The words exited his mouth even instinctively, and he almost chuckled as Schneep frowned at him. “Look, can you get rid of it? Surgery? Drugs? You said someone else here had it. Did they...did you help them?”

Dr. Schneeplestein frowned for a split second before it disappeared under his medical mask. “Of course. I do not let any of ze patients suffer. He is much happier now, and also not dead.”

That sounded at least partly false.

“You vill not like it.” At Dr. Iplier ‘s confused expression, he clarified, “Ze cure. Ze feelings and memories will fade, you vill no longer love him. Zis is the only vay, unless he returns your love, or you die.”

The matter-of-fact tone that his friend used almost infuriated him. Those were not easy choices. Those were the _worst_ choices. He was usually the one who dealt well with giving bad news, he wasn’t used to accepting it.

“I am sorry, my friend.” Schneep said, sticking a thermometer into the other’s mouth, “But I vill not let you die.”

He spat the thermometer onto the carpet.

“Shut the...just...just get _out_ , Henrik. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He shook his head, and found that he couldn’t stop shaking until the German doctor grabbed his shoulders. Apparently he’d been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

“Edward.” His head snapped up at his name, “I’m sorry, but he is outside.” -shit- “Either you listen to me, or you listen to _him_.”

That wasn’t fucking _fair_.

_I love him._

“...You owe me.”

“How so? I’m ze one saving your life.” Schneep teased lightly, but then sighed, “I vill buy you dinner next veek, but I am not dining vith a dead man, Edward.”

Dr. Iplier almost smiled at that, but didn’t. Couldn't. He could feel another coughing fit coming, but didn’t want either Schneep or the Host to see. He was about to ask the other doctor to leave, but the thought of the Host immediately caused him to spasm, falling to his side and trembling as he felt his throat closing around the absurd amount of soft flowers and petals travelling up from his lungs. His tightly shut eyes burned at the pain and lack of oxygen.

This was it.

This was death, he could see it.

It didn’t look like Heaven or Hell, but he could see his patients. All his dead patients. 

They looked welcoming, and he almost reached out. 

But as soon as he tried, static covered his vision, and he felt himself being picked up by someone who didn’t at all feel like Schneep.

————————————

_“So, in this hypothetical-“_

_“Almost certainly real.” The Host interjected, almost rolling his eyes at Edward Iplier’s fourth use of the word “hypothetical”._

_“-_ hypothetical _universe, I could be the radio host, and you’re the doctor?”_

_“Yes, and there are also other universes where the Host and the doctor are both radio hosts, or both doctors. Maybe authors. The realities are endless and all possible. There are also many universes where we do not exist, or are only fictional.”_

_“Like characters in a book? Like your books?”_

_“Very likely. The Host’s books do contain a variety of wonderful characters.”_

_“And then there’d be me.” Edward joked self-depreciatingly._

_The Host shook his head, tucking one of the bandages behind his ear as it started to fall down. “Not at all, I’m sure that you would be one of my greatest characters.” He smiled at the other’s modesty._

_A pause that felt more like a lull in time. He was used to those, but wasn’t used to seeing others seemingly experience the sensation. But Edward was full of surprises, he supposed._

_“Is the doctor alright?” He asked cautiously, “He has been silent for a while.”_

_“Uh...yes, yes, just...remembered something. Wait, I thought you could tell what we were thinking?”_

_“The Host has the ability, yes, but prefers to respect the others’ privacy. He wants to respect Dr. Iplier’s, at the very least.”_

_Dr. Iplier seemed to go silent again following his words, and the Host started to wonder whether the man was tired. He began to ask his friend what the issue he was but the doctor unintentionally cut across him._

_“I...Anyway, as you were saying about the theory of, um, alternate universes...”_

_“Ah yes, Dr. Iplier is a great listener, dear friend... Would the doctor like to hear of one of The Host's favourite universes?”_

_“Still depends on whether I believe that you can see them, and I’m still doubtful on that front.” Dr. Iplier coughed slightly before shrugging, “Tell me anyway.”_

_“It is a universe where we are all happy. The Host is still an author, and still has his eyes. Edward Iplier is...”_

————————————

It had been a confusing ten minutes for Edward Iplier. Largely prompted by the fact that he’d woken up in the medical wing of the building with no memory of why he was there. The place had been empty, not even Schneep was around to berate him for drinking twelve cups of coffee (which would be immensely hypocritical) or for needlessly scaring patients with inaccurate diagnoses.

One thing he did notice was that the pain in his chest -which had been bothering him for weeks- was gone. It didn’t even hurt to take deep breaths, and he was able to painlessly laugh with relief. But why was he so relieved? It was just the flu, or maybe a chest infection. But that didn’t really matter now.

“Schneep!” He called out, hurriedly pulling out his hospital gown and changing into his normal clothes, which were piled on the nearby table. “It’s unwise to leave an unconscious patient alone without a nurse or an emergency button! Did you even _get_ your PhD?”He didn't care about his own hypocriticalness at that moment; the situation was far too disconcerting.

He huffed as he rummaged through his pockets, unable to find his phone. He glanced over to spot it on one of the hospital beds, two down from where he’d woken up. Weird. He turned it on, expecting to see some sort of cryptic message, or at least a text which would give him a clue as to why he was there, but no. Just an adorable background photo of his dog and three messages from Bing asking where his skateboard was. Dr. Iplier raised an eyebrow as he sent a reply.

_\- I think Dark threw it out the window._

He smirked as his phone started frantically buzzing with Bing’s messages, faintly hearing some yelling in the distance. He scrolled down further to see a new message from The Host. He began to worry but wasn’t sure why.

_\- The Host would like to speak with Edward._

Huh. The Host never used his first name. Or did he? For some reason he found it difficult to remember. He sent a message back, and was surprised to hear a nearby ping.

_\- Is there something wrong?_

_\- The Host and Dr. Schneeplestein would like Dr. Iplier to meet them in the adjoining room._

Ah, back to formalities. He did find it slightly unnerving, how the other two were just waiting nearby for him to wake up to send a text. But having said that, The Host did wield some unexplainable powers, while Schneeplestein had apparently been possessed at least once. They were all a weird bunch.

_\- I’ll be there now._

Before leaving the room, the doctor grabbed a cookie from his secret supply in the cupboard, justifying it as his breakfast. The door to the adjoining room opened by itself, and once he entered, he almost rolled his eyes at The Host.

“I feel like there are better uses for your powers” he commented, taking a large bite of his breakfast cookie.

“The Host likes to make small gestures, now and then.” The Host replied casually from where he was sitting on the room’s excessively large couch.

The large red room that they sat in was technically a waiting room of sorts, but it was rarely used as such. There were barely enough egos in the building to constitute them having to queue for a visit to one of the doctors, so the room was used more as a lounge for the doctors. There was even had a large tv, a vending machine and two bookshelves. It was almost better than most of the actual lounges upstairs.

They probably had too many lounges, honestly.

“Well, it’s appreciated.”

“Edward.” Schneeplestein leaned forwards in his chair, playing with his hands in a nervous fashion. “Do you...vhat do you remember?”

“About what?”

“Ze previous weeks. You have...been vith a sickness.” He ended his sentence there, but it seemed as though he wanted to continue with his clarification.

“Uh, what day is it? That might help me remember.” Before he’d finished his sentence, he’d already glanced at his phone again to check the date, shocked to see that he'd missed the last two weeks. Somehow. “Oh, that’s...oh god. I...nothing much, except for some chest pain. Why? Did I have a fever? A chest infection?”

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. Once, he’d fallen so ill that Marvin, the Host and Dark had all had to help calm him down with their powers. Dark had come separately, of course - and swore that he’d murder Dr. Iplier if he ever told anyone about the incident. Still, he’d appreciated the demon’s brief moment of kindness.

But from the look on Schneeplestein’s face, his assumptions seemed wrong.

“Vell, it does not matter.” He stood up so quickly that he swayed slightly, before blinking and turning to Dr. Iplier. “I...I am sorry, my friend. I vill buy you dinner tomorrow.”

“Uh, alright?” Confused, he patted Schneep’s shoulder as the man left the room with his mug of coffee, leaving Dr. Iplier and the Host alone. Faced with the other man, he suddenly felt odd, as if he was forgetting something important. As he moved to sit down, feeling awkward just standing there, he racked his brain, trying to remember. He bit off a second piece of the cookie in his mouth, but found that he couldn’t really taste it.

“Do you feel alright?”

His head shot up to face the Host’s, surprised at his use of first-person. Despite the fact that his eyes were hidden by bloodsoaked bandages (he made a note to change them soon), the other man somehow looked concerned.

“I’m always alright. You guys are...acting suspicious. Did I do something wrong?”

The Host shook his head.

“You did something _human_. Understandable. Something The Host...something I will never understand, but can appreciate nonetheless.”

That didn’t help his confusion. The Host continued.

“You developed a romantic attraction to someone. It was unrequited, leading to an illness that would have ended in your death.” He tilted his head, apparently not caring that his bandages were almost falling down. “Dr. Schneeplestein saved your life, after you collapsed.”

Edward had fallen in love. He'd fallen ill. He’d almost died.

He took a deep breath that helped his nerves very little. It was an odd feeling, knowing that, especially as he couldn’t remember loving anyone that way since his divorce. He squinted his eyes at The Host, trying to discern an answer from the other man. Poker-faced as always.

“Hanahaki.” He barely thought to question how he somehow suddenly knew about the disease. “I lost the memories?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask who-?”

“The Host believes that it would be better for Dr. Iplier not to know. For now, at least.”

The doctor frowned at the return to third-person, and the feeling that the Host didn’t want to continue the conversation any more than he himself did. But something pushed him to keep talking.

“Well, since _you_ know...” -The Host stiffened- “...can you tell them I’m sorry? I don’t know what I must’ve been thinking. This is all such bad news; I...I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

The Host didn’t say anything, only nodding as he left the room, fists clenched at his sides. Dr. Iplier couldn’t tell if that meant he was angry or upset; he was never that great at discerning emotions. Especially not the emotions of those without eyes.

Sighing, he stood back up, heading out of the room quietly. On his way out, he threw away the remainder of his cookie, only briefly glancing, puzzled, at the pool of tiny blue flowers at the bottom of the trash can.

_Forget-me-nots._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I didn't know this chapter would end up being as long as it is, I tend to write these on my phone where theres no word count so yeah, this is twice as long as my art essay, go figure. There's a hint in this one about another chapter I'm thinking about writing, but we'll see. 
> 
> 'Edward' has been headcannoned as Dr. Iplier's first name by a lot of people so I'm sticking with it.
> 
> Also I'm really sorry for how the romance(?) is written, theres a reason I stick with angst lol


	7. Tough Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yandereplier has a habit of falling in love with the most inconvenient people at the most inconvenient times. The egos all deal with it in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Mentions of blood.  
> \- Mentions of weapons (mostly guns and knives)  
> \- Non-graphic descriptions of violence.  
> \- It's based around Yandere, so take that as a warning in itself

Incredibly, none of the egos in the Ego Building has been actually murdered yet. Sure, some had come very _close_ to dying, partly because of Jack and Mark’s video ideas, partly because of stupid decisions (though that was mostly Chase, Bing or Wilford). But the reason it was a miracle that they hadn’t been killed yet was due to _one_ ego, and it surprisingly wasn’t even Anti.

“Bing! Oh, Bing, baby, where did you go? Don’t worry, I’ll always find you, my _sweet Senpai_ …”

The A.I. in question groaned both verbally and due to his rusty joints as he ducked under the kitchen table. How could she have found him?! He’d literally skateboarded through the entire building to escape her, after _electrocuting_ her, no less! But she was persistent, and apparently invincible. Anything for her senpai, which he apparently _was_ today.

“It would be advised for you to continue running,” Google’s monotone voice sounded from above him - the other search engine was sat at the table, fiddling with the exposed wiring in his arm, “she will dismantle you. Piece by piece.”

“Not freaking helpful, bro!” He hissed, whacking Google’s leg with his skateboard, breaking the board in half, “Fuck, that’s like the fourth one this month.”

He’d been trying to avoid her all morning, ever since he heard her singsong voice echoing down his corridor. Her senpai seemed to change what seemed like every few days, twice a week at least, and they always hoped that she would choose some poor, unassuming stranger from outside of their building, their reality. But when her affections focused on one of the egos, the “senpai” could do nothing but run and hide or play along. Bing had no sense of user friendliness, so he usually picked the former option.

“Google, dude, you’ve gotta help me. She’s fucking insane!”

“I’ll reassemble you in the morning. Play along or she will cut through the other egos to reach you. I’m in the middle of fixing a bug, I’d prefer it if she didn’t interrupt me with attempted violence.”

Bing suddenly yelled out as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him out from the other side of the table.

_“Shiiiiiit!”_

True to his word, Google did reassemble his “cousin’s” robotic form the next morning, allowing the A.I. to continue his cut-off scream from the previous day. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the other robot, but it was just that. Still, Bing had ~~tried~~ to help him after that nasty encounter with Anti, so he justified it as a debt being paid.

Bing’s almost comic scream lasted a few more minutes, until Google became irritated and deactivated his voice. Bing immediately stopped yelling, glaring at Google before switching it back on.

“She tore my fucking arm off, bro!”

“She did more than that.” Google said, before actually turning his attention to Bing. “Luckily,-well, luckily for _you_ \- she seems to have found a new temporary obsession.”

Bing tried not to look too relieved. “God help their fucking soul...” he muttered sarcastically, stalking off without realising that half of his head was still on the table.

He did seem to later realise, as his lack of depth perception led him straight into two door frames, three table corners, and a situation where he accidentally whacked Dark in the face with a wad of paper intended for the target of the trash can. He’d almost had to be reassembled a second time. 

————————-

Usually, the others weren’t quite so aloof when Yandereplier decided to fixate on one of them. It was much harder to reboot humans, zombies and any other type of non-robotic beings (plus whatever the hell the Jim twins were). That’s why it became a real problem when, one day, she suddenly chose to love Jackaboy Man out of the blue.

“Uh, Schneep, I think something’s up.” He’d hurried into Dr. Schneeplestein’s office that morning, quietly closing the door behind him with a click. “I have a problem.”

“Like a…” Schneep didn’t look up from his papers, waving his pen slightly as he attempted to remember the right word. “...planet-ending problem?”

“Well, no, more of a I-am-very-uncomfortable-and-it-could-be-nothing-but-could-also-be-Anti-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-problem.” He coughed, out of breath after that sentence.

Schneep sighed, seemingly half-concerned and half-annoyed. He gestured for the superhero to sit down, which he did, reluctantly.

“Last week you said Anti vas ze one who took ze last cookies. Also zat he broke ze vindow Marvin _saw you_ break. Ze veek before, you said it vas Anti’s fault that it vas raining vhen you vanted to practice flying.”

“Okay, okay -to be fair!- it _was_ actually Anti that took the cookie; he told me last time he tried to stab me. Plus we don’t know for _sure_ that he can’t control the weathe-“

“Jackaboy,” Schneep clicked his pen in front of his friend’s face, catching his attention, “Vhy are you…not comfortable?”

In answer, Jackaboy dumped a pile of what looked like gifts and cards onto Schneep’s desk. The doctor barely had time to become annoyed at the mess before the other shoved one of the cards into his face, centimetres from his nose.

“Look!”

“Miststück…” Schneep muttered, taking the card from Jackaboy so that he could properly read it. The spelling was so awful that he had an especially difficult time trying to read it. “Zis person…seems to love you? A prank, perhaps?”

“Hey!” Jackaboy said, offended, but his expression quickly returned to worried, “It’s Yan. Yandereplier. She’s decided to be obsessed with me today and I’m freaking the fuck out. I can’t just hide, she’ll find me. I guess I could just knock her out, but I don’t know how Mark’s egos will respond to that…”

“Vait…vhy did you think that Anti did zis? If it’s clearly Yande-“

Jackaboy groaned, and Schneep suddenly noticed how the superhero was propping furniture up against the door. There was already a bookshelf, two tables and a wooden chair moved out of place. He supposed it was the superstrength that made it seem effortless.

“I guess I just...wanted it to be?…It’s more expected, you know? I can just kick his ass. I don’t know how to deal with all this blood and glitter.”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed the blood covering some of the gifts. To be fair, being a doctor he’d gotten used to the metallic smell and it usually didn’t bother him. However this blood smelled…sweet? Slightly disturbing.

“Jacka- hm?” Schneep frowned as he looked up, seeing that Jackaboy was apparently gone. The door was still barricaded. “You are not ze Batman, you do not have to rudely leave!”

He jumped as a voice yelled.

“I just remembered that I can turn invisible!” Half the items on his desk tumbled to the floor, “Oops, shit, I can’t see my own limbs, that’s an issue.” 

Schneep swore in German, pushing the rest of the disturbing gifts of his desk (he’ll just make Google clean it up later).

“Vhy do you never remember that vhen convenient?” He sighed for what felt like the eighth time that morning, “I'm sure it vould assist vhen dealing with Anti.”

“I…kinda got it by making a deal with Dark.”

_“VHAT?”_

“Okay, okay, I just _really_ wanted it, okay? I already have flight and strength, kinda wanted the big three. But the condition was that I wouldn’t be able to remember to use it unless I really, _really_ needed to."

“… _Zat_ was the condition?”

“Well, he also made me carry this mirror to to his office. It was from some old house, so I’m probably cursed. Cursed with good looks, am I right?”

If it was hard to talk to an invisible person, it was even harder to throw a pen at their face. Still, he definitely hit something.

“Okay, you and Chase need to stop doing that, how will I save the universe with one e-?” Jackaboy’s complaints cut off as they heard a voice coming from the corridor. A very out-of-tune singing voice.

“Okay, look, no one will judge me if I punch Yan, right? As self-defense?”

Schneep stood up, moving to the door, “How dangerous can she actua-?“

“She has a katana and like seven knives! I saw her playing with a buzzsaw once!” Jackaboy hissed. “You’re the one that freaks out whenever we get hurt! I want her _out_ of here, she could kill any of us!”

Schneep didn’t respond, but Jackaboy knew that he was probably tired. The doctor considered four hours of sleep a lot, after all. He continued to listen through the door with his ear pressed to the wood as Jackaboy began to panic, staring at his hands and arms.

“Shit, Schneep, I'm not invisible anymore, she’s gonna come in here and find us, she’s gonna _kill_ you.”

“͝Çould́ yoú...sh͏u̕t̴ ̡the _fu̵ćk_ up̨ ͜fo͜r ̛ a̡ ͢min̶ut̀e?̀”

Time froze in place, and so did he.

What happened after the static, growling voice left the doctor’s mouth was a bit of a blur. Literally. It was like Jackaboy’s vision had suddenly worsened, causing his head to hurt. The buzzing in his ears and the fact that he could barely move certainly didn’t help.

Trying desperately to focus on the scene happening right in front of him, he could only vaguely discern a fight. Yan seemed to be losing against…whoever it was that Jackaboy had been talking to for the past few minutes.

Was it Schneep? Was it Anti? Hell, maybe he was just hallucinating the whole thing, they had two demons who could probably create those. Probably.

After swaying dazedly for what simultaneously felt both like thirty seconds and three hours, a hand grabbed his hair, pulling his face up. His unfocused vision made it hard to figure out who he was looking at. They looked angry. And bloody. But that didn’t really narrow it down at all.

“Henrik?” He mumbled, blinking slowly.

The person before him frowned.

"Uńb̢el͞i̵evabl͝e. You͢ ̧do͞n̛’t ̵go̡ ge͠t̶ti͢n͡g ̶y͟o͝ùŗself hur̛t ͜o͜r fu͟c̷king ͡ki͢lļe͝d̕ ̨by͢ s̶om͟eon̕e͘ els͞e. ̵Thąt͢’s ́ḿy j́ob,  _n͘o one’s͝_ taki̛n͏g tha͏t̕ f̷rom̸ me̢."

Jackaboy tried to lift his arm, confused whether he was right about the hallucination theory. Did Anti…save him?

“Fr̶ea̧king ͝ama͠t͝e̛ur͝…she  d͜o̡e̶sn’͢t e̷v̷e̸ǹ ̕k̸ńow͘ ̕hów ̵t́ơ   ̀to̴rt̴u͢re͡ ̵proper̨l̀y͏...” Anti seemed to be talking to himself, but snapped his attention back to Jackaboy with a sadistic grin, "Y̕ou͞ w̛on’t̢ rȩmember̷ t̷h̵i̶s.͟ ͝ ̡ Y҉o̢u stil̶l̡ ca҉n̢’̧t ̕st̛o͝p m͞e.̴"

With that, the demon with the slit throat let go of the other’s hair, and Jackaboy’s vision went black.

“D̴oǹ’̕t worr̀y͏, ̡no ͢ǫn̕e̡’͜s̴ ̵ki͢lli̶ng̵ ̸you ̶bu̴t ̢m͞e.”

——————————-

“Do you think I’m her type?”

“You’re a sadistic ~~psycho~~ \- a sadistic _person_ who loves pink.” Dark rolled his eyes, “Of course you’re Yandere's  _type_.”

“Well, it’s just that she’s never really shown an _interest_ in me. No one reeeeally has…”

Dark’s red aura expanded and snapped like an elastic band around them, instantly heating then cooling the room. It felt…distant.

 ~~Celine~~ Dark sighed. “You deserve love, Will. If she makes you happy, tell her that.”

Wilford chuckled slightly at Dark’s uncharacteristic kindness. Well, not quite uncharacteristic; he seemed to grow softer whenever Wilford talked about love, or (what he remembered of) his past. He didn’t understand why, but that wasn’t important.

“Do you think she likes guns? I know she has a wonderful collection of knives but I’m trying to think of an original gift…”

“Mm, yes, I’m sure that would be fine.” Dark said monotonously. He saw an opportunity to leave as Wilford began to look through his cupboards for the perfect weapon.

It was fine. Of course it was fine. He was a demonic creature that could feel no sympathy for anyone; _he was fine_. Love, especially, was a foreign concept. Well, to about a third of him. The other two thirds…had their own opinions.

**“We’re just…encouraging him to fall in love with a murderous schoolgirl?”**

**“To be fair, Yan did tell us a while back that she’s the same age as alone the other egos, so she’s technically not a sch-“**

**“That’s not the _point_ , Damien!” **Celine hissed at her brother, **“You should know better than any of us…them…not to trust anyone _Mark_ creates!”**

Damien’s movements echoed invisibly through Dark’s mind. He seemed to sit down next to his sister.

**“I miss him too.”**

Celine didn’t respond, and Dark opened his eyes, glancing back into the room behind him. He’d only just turned around to head back in when he sensed another presence. A very murderous presence.

**“Anti?”**

**“No.”**

Disappearing into black smoke, he slithered down a few corridors until he found her, knives and all. Yan seemed to have…played with someone recently, judging from the brightness of the red covering her clothes.

He shouldn’t have cared. He didn’t care about Wilford, he definitely didn’t care about Yandereplier, no matter the _foolish_ emotions of the two beings stuck in his head. He _didn’t_ care. 

Yan stopped skipping as he transformed back into his normal form, “Hm? Hello?”

“Hello, Yandere.” He greeted smoothly, walking around from behind her. “I’m guessing you’ve found another…senpai?”

The girl squealed excitedly, before her face suddenly dropped, “Oh, yeah. Well, Senpai did love me, so, _so_ much. But after I got rid of some of the people keeping us apart, he apparently…had a change _._ Of _. Heart_.-“ she punctuated each word with a stab to the wall with two knives and a katana,“-and sillily decided to call the police...”

She let out a clearly fake, exaggerated sob.

“Did you kill him?”

“I…well, it turned out he wasn’t my _real_   Senpai…so I, yeah, I pushed him off a roof. Why is that so bad?”

God, she reminded him of Wilford sometimes. Too much.

“So have you found a new senpai?” He asked cautiously, not for fear of violence, but just in case his words triggered a sudden love for one of the egos. He couldn’t have a death around here, who knows what would happen to their reality. His determination to keep control and destroy Mark was the only thing keeping him from taking a path similarly to Anti’s.

“No…nothing matters right now. But my real Senpai will appear soon, I just know it. No one will stand in my way.”

An awkward silence followed her words. Dark assumed that she was attempting to intimidate him, but it was failing miserably. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Well, let me know if you do find a new…love. I’m sure the next one won’t be an embarrassing, crushing failure that will haunt your dreams every night.”

“Of course.” She seemed to come to a realisation as she narrowed her eyes at him, “You know…I’ve had my eye on adorable, sweet Wilford for a while, he’s so cute, isn’t he?”

The voices in Dark’s head went silent.

“I just hope that no one would stand _in my way_ in that scenario.” Yan suddenly giggled, wrenching her katana from the wall where she’d stabbed it earlier. She twirled it a few times before skipping away. Dark growled and left the corridor as well, appearing in his office.

**“She’s going to kill him."**

**"She’s not…he likes her, doesn’t he? Maybe they’ll be happy together…"**

**"We’ve seen how quick she can turn around and stab someone!"**

**"Maybe this time it’ll be different?"**

**"We _can’t_ let him get hurt.”**

The words of both beings overlapped, sentences being spoken by both and neither, started by one, completed by the other. Backwards, upside-down; too quiet and loud to understand. It was only ever like this when they debated about Wilford.

“He wouldn’t be happy with me.” He told no one, now staring at his cracked office mirror, “But he wouldn’t be safe with her.”

The being in mirror didn’t respond. It hadn’t for months now.

**“Why did you run off with him?"**

**"You know why. He was kind, and funny.**

**He made me happy.**

**With Mark I was trapped, and when I set myself free, Will was there as well.**

**We chose each other. We were equal.**

**You loved him too."**

**"I did."**

**"We can’t protect him, not like this.”**

Red light.

**“Yes, we can.”**

Celine eyes stared at the cracked mirror before they flickered back to adopt Dark’s appearance. He hated it when they became too loud.

“Done?” He asked coldly, crossing his arms, “You both irritate me sometimes.”

But they _were_ him, and he was them. His stoic shell struggled to retain its strength while constantly containing two emotional, constantly arguing siblings. He could feel the same things that they did: primarily their hatred of Mark, but occasionally also their love of Wilford. Those were the only two constants, and it was hard to focus on the former without the latter thought appearing.

**“Please, just…**

**Let us protect him.”**

“Fine.”

**~~~**

A week later, Yandere was back chasing some poor hapless souls from outside their reality, sick and tired of all the egos in the building.

“I have been _electrocuted, stabbed, insulted_ , and someone keeps stealing my _good_ _knife!”_ She’d furiously announced one morning, leading three egos to run and hide behind various pieces of furniture in the lounge while the others cautiously kept their guards up. “I am done with all of you, _none_ of you deserve my love, _none_ of you are my Senpai!”

As she stalked out of the room and presumably the building, almost all the egos present in the room let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank _fuck_ ,” Bing automatically moved across the couch to kiss Chase on the cheek in celebration, much to the Septic ego’s surprise, “and to clarify, dudes, she _did_ electrocute me first.”

“Fair enough, bro.” Chase chuckled, face slightly red. "Out- uh...out of curiosity, who's the one who stabbed her?"

Jackaboy answered, attempting to remember the day that she'd been chasing him; "I dunno, it was a while ago. Whoever it was saved me though, so I'm grateful. Not my proudest moment as a superhero, though,"

The Host hummed, tilting his head as if listening for something before returning to a more relaxed pose. The rest of the egos followed suit- well, the ones who were present. There were a few that were noticeably missing. Probably busy.

"Wait, where's Wil-?"

**~~~**

“You’ll never leave me...right, Dark? Not like..."

“Never. I swear that on the life of _every_  ego here, including myself.”

“I...miss being loved.”

“They miss you too.” Cold grey hands wrapped around warm fidgeting ones, pulling them and their owner close. His voice, just for a few seconds, split into two.

**“We love you too, William.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmm? i was planning for this to be a short funny drabble but it turned into almost 3000 words containing fluff, the demons protecting(?) dumb humans and Google being an asshole?? and Chase and Bing being slightly gay idk? also idk what I'm doing in terms of writing romance but hey it happened (i think)?? Yan's probably the least focused-on character in this chapter, but to be fair, she's only had one appearance on Mark's channel, and it was like 2 minutes, so i didn't have a lot to go on
> 
> also no, Anti didn't hurt Jackaboy, he saved him cause he hasn’t finished having fun tormenting them yet (he's seriously like a child pretending to be a supervillain, but, you know, genuinely murderous). don't ask me how Anti appeared, Schneep realllyyyyy doesn't want you to know (also i uhhhh haven't really planned ahead that far, but its coming...sometime)
> 
> (if i sound weird its cause it's late and i've got art to make for college but fuck that i wanted to publish a thing for you guys)


	8. Mind Gone Blank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dp L khuh? Dp L d jolwfk? Dp L d qljkwpduh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- Error  
> \- E...rr  
> e  
> -err...or  
> \- 
> 
> *hwkdq lvqw khuh uljkw qrz
> 
> vhulrxvob wkrxjk wkhuh'v qr zduqlqjv wklv wlph

The places he went were never empty. No, wait, they were always empty. The definition of emptiness was weird. Was a place still empty if he was there? The black-eyed being didn’t know if he counted as a “someone”; the definition of a person was also weird. There wasn’t a solid line. Especially not in the Ego Building. Some were demons; some were machines; some were half-dead. He didn’t know if he was any of those. Half-dead was probably the most accurate. Demon also sounded rather close, but he wasn’t sure. Weren’t demons meant to be powerful?

But saying that, it did seem to be only a few beings, the demons included, who could see him. Neither liked him. The green one had tried to threaten - swung a knife and cackled at him until he apparently got bored and glitched away. There were no wounds, none to see anyway. He didn’t know what wounds felt like. 

"Wh͟a͢t ͘ar͏e͝ ̵yơu͜, ͘ _fr̡e͟ak̡_?

̀Y̧òu t̷ry҉ing to j̴oi͝n͝ ͞in͞ ̡o̢n͜ ͞th̕e̸ fun̢? ̷H͡a!̧ ͢

̷Tryi͡n̷g̷ ͜to st̢e̛al m̷y͞ ̴t̕hun̡d͝er͡?́ ̛At le͞ast̸ ͠Dark̕ ͘knows h̶i̵s̡ ̢p̶l͟a͘c͟e, knows ͘n͡o̡t͢  ̧t̶o fuc̸ki̸n̕g̢  ́bo͝t̸ḩer̀ ̵me.

̧Are҉ ͠yo̸u èven̢ ̷l̵i̧st̴enin͠g̢?  
͞  
Or̀  i̛s ͜y̵ou͜r ́h͝eáḑ ͡as emp͢tý ̶a҉s i͞t̕ ̕lo͟o͠k̕s?”

The one in the suit was nicer, or at least wasn’t attempting to mutilate the other being. He’d gathered from the green demon that the other's name was Dark. The man seemed curious, asking a few questions that he couldn’t answer coherently. But he wanted to. He seemed familiar, but it was probably nothing. Everyone was nothing.

“Ethan.” 

Who was that? The man was talking to him, saying things he didn’t know, that he couldn’t answer.

“Do you know where you are?”

Of course he didn’t. He barely knew _who_ he was. Everything here was too loud, too bright, too emotional. Egos running and shouting all the time, sometimes happy, sometimes other things. They ran through him, complaining about the sudden chills that jumped up their spines. 

_“You know, that means someone walked over your grave.”_

_“Someone’s probably pissing allllll over yours, Marvin.”_

_“Jeez, Warfstache, shut up!”_

Why did he recognise the voices? Why did he know them? He didn’t. He couldn’t. 

Was he a ghost? He couldn’t remember dying. But maybe ghosts couldn’t remember, and that’s why they were so scared and angry all the time. He wasn’t scared or angry.

He could remember seeing ghosts, once or twice. Or maybe it was another demon, or another being like him. Whatever he was. He’d only seen it for a few minutes; the slight outline of a crying person, holding their head in their hands. There was a lot of some dark liquid; like blood or ink that flowed from one side of their head. He’d tried to approach to see why they were crying; he didn’t empathise or even sympathise, but he was curious. That seemed to be the only emotion he had. But the person had faded, and he heard clearer crying coming from another part of the building. A different kind of crying.

That was the clearest form he’d seen, the only one he’d somehow known that no one else could see. But there was another. About a month after E4.ha8*%n had appeared-

_Don’t say that! Time isn’t real, don’t be stupid!_

_It was only a few seconds_

_It was…te…ten years_

_It was…wa…er….error…_

_.     ..  .e...rror…_

Dark, helped by another ego, brought a mirror to the building, hanging it in what looked like an office. It was a beautiful thing, large, and decorated with a swirling metal frame. What wasn’t beautiful were the cracks. Right in the middle of the mirror a broken spiderweb of shards reached out, a few missing pieces revealing static within. The man had glared at him as he’d watched him hang it up.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” He's hissed, making Et7...7#9th37n8 recoil. 

“Hm. Well don’t bother me, and don’t talk to it.” 

He didn’t know what Dark was referring to, but weakly nodded anyway. He wasn’t afraid of the other man; he didn’t know how to be. But as he couldn’t argue, he opted for compliance.

 _Apparent_ compliance. He moved up to the mirror almost immediately after Dark left the room, tapping on it like a child. When it warped and let out a noise that vaguely sounded like a cry, he simply looked closer. As it calmed down, he could see a blurry shape flickering on the reflective glass, seemingly struggling to retain a consistent state. He tried to talk to it with his almost non-existent voice, but nothing made sense as usual. It was only as he raised a hand that he realised what it was; his reflection, and the other being that he’d been looking for didn’t exist. 

_“It’s okay, it’s okay, I promise…”_

Or maybe they did.

Before his eyes, some of the mirror shards seemed to meld into the outline of a shape. A translucent hand covered in cracks reached out to touch his reflection’s shoulder, and he could feel it.

_“You’re not alone here, you don’t have to be scared…”_

He could _feel_ it.

He hated it.

He never went back to the mirror but, for some reason, took a palm-sized shard from the frame with him. It made him feel less alone, even though he could no longer see the other being in it. It warped and screamed a lot while in his company, but he didn’t care.

“No, dude, I _swear_ we have a ghost.”

Oh yes, there was one more.

“Bing, I don’t care. No one cares. Ghosts aren’t real, but considering the unreliability of your search results, I’m not entirely surprised that you believe in them.”

The man in the orange vest seemed to stutter for a moment, offended. “Well fuck you too, Google. Come on, if we catch this proof, it’ll be the most searched thing in, like, _history_ , bro!”

Before Google could retort, Bing grabbed his shirt, pulling him down the corridor. Or attempting to, at least. Google remained completely still as Bing’s arm was almost comically pulled from his shoulder, the wires sparking slightly against the metal.

“Google!” Bing scowled, clumsily reattaching his arm. “Come on, bro! You’re so lame, _this_ is why-“

“No, no, I’m coming,” Google interrupted him, “I wanted to see your arm fall off again. It’s the only enjoyable thing that you do.”

The two search engines continued to bicker as they approached the hallway where E…Eth..et1h2#45n rested, silently floating in mid air.

Was it sleep? What was sleep? Sleep was for humans, and humans were stupid. He seemed to actually be in the majority in that regard - of the beings in the building who didn’t have to rest for an absurd number of hours. Well, a healthy number of hours anyway. He’d seen both of the doctors stumbling around on as little as two hours sleep, gripping their respective caffeinated drinks like lifelines. Watching people made him feel less alone, and the thought of personal space was foreign to him. The humans seemed to sleep peacefully; only one or two screamed in their sleep or shot awake due to nightmares. He wondered what nightmares were like.

He wondered if _he_ was a nightmare.

When they found him, the robots left almost as quickly as they’d entered. The blue one didn’t see him hovering there. The orange one had some glitches; windows through which he could see the black-eyed creature. But then the robot turned around to follow the blue one, disappointed, raising his middle finger at Et*6h62n_.

“Fuck you, dude, you’re being totally unradical right now.”

He blinked his empty eyes, staring down at himself. He pulled the mirror shard from his pocket and stared at the blurry reflection of someone else's eye looking back at him. It spoke, for the first time in weeks.

_“Eth…E26ah6….an7%6…don’t…listen to…them…..let me…out…”_

It kept talking, why did it talk? No one else wanted to talk to him. They just wanted to laugh or yell. He wanted to laugh or yell, he wanted to know what it was like.

_“Please…you’re the only…one…who…”_

The mirror shard dropped from the air where he floated before the eye watching him had finished its blink. It screamed distortedly as it hit the floor and smashed into even smaller shards. It didn’t stop screaming, but after a while he stopped hearing it.

Was _he_ a glitch? 

Was _he_ an error? 

Was he…

_> os.remove(“characters/ethan.ch”)_

_> ethan.ch deleted successfully_

His mind went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter along with my previous chapter partly cause its shorter than most of my recent ones and partly cause I'm not completely satisfied with it. I don't wanna leave you guys with a chapter that you might hate, so I'm hoping you'll like one of these chapters lol. Writing this really made me wanna watch more of Ethan's videos, especially his DDLC playthrough, but I'm not planning to carry on with this character, just wanted to play around with how he's exist along with the other egos in the building.
> 
>  
> 
> By the way, I'm probably not gonna be able to post as often now, since i have a really intense uni-level project coming up in my foundation diploma. i have to illustrate and maybe write a children's book, which is gonna be stressful considering the limited amount of time i have to do it *insert crying emoji here*


End file.
